TASTY TOUR~EXPOSED~TRACY WOLFF

Exposed
Ethan Frost # 3

By: Tracy Wolff

Releasing May 5th, 2015

Loveswept

ABOUT THE BOOK~

Ethan Frost, the irresistible
leading man from the New York Times bestsellers Ruined and Addicted, returns
once again in Exposed—a novel that’s perfect for fans of J. Kenner and Sylvia
Day.
Will Ethan Frost go too far for the woman he loves?

The moment Chloe Girard walked into my life, she exposed secrets and emotions I
always thought were best kept buried.

She wants to move on, to ignore the past. But I can’t do that. Not when she
still suffers. And not when the man who hurt her remains unscathed. So when I
discover the perfect opportunity to make him pay for what he did to Chloe, I
can’t walk away, no matter the consequences.

But there’s a fine line between justice and obsession. As I turn up old crimes
and new lies, I know that I’m playing with fire—and risking the very
foundations of our relationship.

My love for Chloe is absolute. I just hope it’s enough to save us both.

Tracy Wolff collects books, English
degrees and lipsticks and has been known to forget where—and sometimes who—she
is when immersed in a great novel. At six she wrote her first short
story—something with a rainbow and a prince—and at seven she forayed into the
wonderful world of girls lit with her first Judy Blume novel. By ten she’d read
everything in the young adult and classics sections of her local bookstore, so
in desperation her mom started her on romance novels. And from the first page
of the first book, Tracy knew she’d found her life-long love. Now an English
professor at her local community college, she writes romances that run the
gamut from contemporary to paranormal to erotic suspense.

“Is
it safe?” Tori asks an hour later, stumbling into the kitchen where I’m sitting
at the table, sipping coffee and daydreaming of Ethan. “Does everybody have
clothes on?”

“I’m
the only one here,” I tell her. “And yes, I am wearing pajama pants and a
sweatshirt.”

“Thank
Christ.” She makes a beeline for the coffeepot and pours herself a large mug. I
watch in amusement as she adds enough sugar to bankrupt a candy factory, then
follows it with a quarter cup of cream before lifting the mug to her lips and
downing half its contents in one gulp.

“How
are you not three hundred pounds?” I ask in disbelief.

“Good
genes and clean living.”

“Well,
I won’t argue the good genes part, anyway.” The wineglass on the counter still
holds the dregs of the two bottles of wine she drank last night.

“You
should,” she replies with a snort.

I
want to ask her what she means—it’s not the first time she’s made a derogatory
comment about her family—but she’s got off-limits signs posted all over her
when it comes to them. So I settle for bumping shoulders with her as I refill
my own coffee cup.

She
returns the bump, then smiles sweetly at me. With that smile, her short green
hair sticking up in every direction and the remnants of last night’s mascara
pooled under her eyes, she looks like a little kid playing dress-up. Dress-up
in a punk rocker’s closet, mind you, but still dress up.

At
least until the smile fades and she pins me with a look meant to bring better
women than me to their knees. “Details. Now.”

“Ethan
and I made up.”

“Believe
me, I know. My room’s next to yours and the walls aren’t nearly as thick as you
think they are.”

“Oh,
God.” Embarrassed heat rushes to my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t
be.” She waves airily. “Since I wasn’t getting any action last night, it’s good
that someone was.”

I
laugh despite myself. “Nice, Tori.”

“Hey,
if you wanted nice, you probably should have picked someone else as your best
friend.” She grabs a box of donuts off the counter and plops them in the middle
of the kitchen table before settling into the chair opposite mine. “Just
saying.”

“Yeah,
well, it’s too late to worry about that now.”

“Damn
straight.” She grabs a donut, then shoves the box toward me. “So what happened
after I left yesterday? You need to give me the scoop before loverboy gets
back.”

“We
made up.”

“Obviously,
you made up. Didn’t we just talk about all the reasons I couldn’t sleep last
night?”

“Well
then, what do you want me to say?”

“I
want details. Did he grovel—I mean, with something besides that bracelet you’re
wearing. Because even I have to admit that is some serious groveling in and of
itself.”

I
glance down at the heavy bracelet Ethan had delivered to me yesterday. The one
he fastened around my wrist when I told him that I loved him. That I’d marry
him. It’s as much a sign of his possession as the belly chain I wear around my
waist—another gift from him.

“Don’t
tell me how much it costs. I don’t want to know.”

“I
wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” she drawls in her best Sophia Loren voice. “I
still remember your freak-out over the belly chain.”

When
I don’t say anything else, she finishes off her donut in silence, all the while
watching me with dark eyes.

“You
look happy,” she finally says.

“I
am happy.”

“That’s
all that matters, then.” She drains her coffee, then pushes back from the
table. “I’m going to take a shower, then head to the beach. Want to join me?”

“I
can’t.”

She
rolls her eyes. “Let me guess. Loverboy talked you into going back to work at
Frost Industries?”

“I
haven’t decided on that yet.”

“Then
what’s going on? Is he coming back to sweep you off to some romantic getaway?”

“We’re
going to Vegas.”

“Vegas?
Really? I had him pegged for a private-island-off-the-coast-of-Greece kind of
guy. I have to admit, I’m a little—”

“We’re
getting married.” I say it fast, hoping it will have less of an impact that
way.

No
such luck. Tori stops in her tracks, eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish as
she tries to wrap her brain around what I just said.

“What?”
she finally squeals before launching herself at me. “He asked you to marry him?
When?

Where?”

“Today.
And I already told you. Las Vegas.”

She’s
back to staring at me like I have three heads. “I meant when did he ask you.
But what you’re telling me is that you’re flying to Las Vegas today? To
get married
today?”

“That
is what I’m telling you.” I start gingerly trying to untangle myself from her
embrace. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially when she’s hanging on for
dear life and doing her best impression of an octopus with its prey.